


Blue Birds in the Moonlight

by Muccamukk



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: 5 Times, Aldbourne, Angst, Canon Era, Closeted, Dancing Lessons, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s01e01 Currahee, Established Relationship, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Small amount of vaguely described smut, Swing Dancing, Waltzing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-27
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-07-03 05:24:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15812289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Muccamukk/pseuds/Muccamukk
Summary: "Nixon," Sink snapped, "I need you to teach Winters to dance before he causes a goddamn international incident."Or, Five Times Lew and Dick Danced Together.





	Blue Birds in the Moonlight

**Author's Note:**

> Written for h/c bingo free square, for which I'm picking "forbidden love." Inspired by Chastity Brown's song "[Whisper]()." There's a playlist of period songs used, referenced or implied at the end.
> 
> This is set in continuity between [Parade Rest](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15485313) and [eyes, lips, and hands to miss](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15644595), but you don't need to read either to follow this.

**One.**  
Lew was sitting in the foyer of the manor house trying to look busy when Colonel Sink stalked in and deposited a woebegone Dick Winters like a mother cat returning her favourite kitten to her den. From Dick's furrowed eyebrows and tight mouth, he knew exactly how this looked and didn't like it one bit.

"Lieutenant Nixon," Sink snapped, and if Lew hadn't already stood to attention and saluted, he'd have done it again for good measure. Sink had a unique talent for putting the army in a man who didn't want anything to do with it.

"Sir?"

"I need you to teach Winters to dance before he causes a goddamn international incident."

"Uh, yes, sir," Lew said. "Any particular..." he tried to ask, but Sink was already on his way out the door, and it was too late. Lew was left standing in the hall surrounded by obviously eavesdropping young officers, with a best friend who looked like he wanted to melt into the boot-scuffed marble floor.

The floor he was staring at while his cheeks flushed red. "Sorry, Nix," Dick said in as close to a mumble as Lew had ever heard from him.

"Hey, it's no trouble," Lew said. "I just want to know what the hell you did to earn me. Step on a duchesses' foot at the dance last night or something?" Dick didn't answer. In fact Dick didn't answer for long enough that Lew got a pretty clear idea that he'd accidentally hit the bullseye. "What, really?"

Dick coughed into his hand and didn't stop blushing. "She was a baroness," he admitted, having worked up from a mumble to the kind of low voice he used to communicate with the men when they were sneaking up on an enemy position. "I think. What do you call someone married to an earl?"

"The countess?" Lew asked far too loud, and every head in the room that had been studiously looking at something else snapped around to stare at them.

Dick met his eyes and looked meaningfully at the gorgeously carved and sandbagged double doors. Lew tipped his head in wry acknowledgement and offered a smile of apology. Dick followed him out. If he hadn't had such damned perfect posture all the time, Lew was sure he'd have been hunched over with his hands jammed in his pockets.

"So it was pretty bad, huh?" Lew asked once they were clear of the mansion.

"'Pretty bad,'" Dick agreed, voice dripping with scorn. He cut eyes at Lew, and then looked away before squaring his shoulders and striding towards the village. Lew jogged to catch up with him, pulling his garrison cap into place as he went. Dick caught him doing it with another sideways glance and only then remembered to don his own. "She was a nice girl, too," he said.

Lew knew who Dick meant: he'd seen her early in the night, before he'd slunk off to drink alone, and had pegged her as one of those anxious young war wives whose husband had abandoned them for the sake of duty. She'd had dun-coloured hair and been pretty in a pale, nervy sort of way. Lew had spared a moment wondered if Kathy was at all like that without him there, and then he'd had another drink. Dick had looked at the same woman and either offered to dance, or she'd taken the eye contact as an offer and dragged him out. Lew could picture it and grimaced to cover a laugh. "Why'd you go?" he asked, before Dick could get sore at him for making fun. "You hate parties."

"Orders," Dick grumbled. "Colonel Sink thinks it's good for my career to... uh... socialise." Sink had probably meant—or more likely had outright said—to go out and drink with his brother officers, especially in the wake of his disastrous near court martial and Sobel's disgraced exit. Dick still wasn't company XO again, and it seemed like coaching the 506th's basketball team only cut him so much slack in regards to off duty socialisation.

So that did make Lew laugh. Dick glared at him, but it was too perfect, and Lew couldn't help himself. "I bet Sink regrets that," he said, and stepped in close enough to bump shoulders. Dick didn't look at him, but his mouth quirked up just a fraction, and Lew grinned at him in response.

"Well, he doesn't regret it enough to let me out of going again," Dick commented. "He's just drafted you."

"Great," Lew said, and this time he wasn't being sarcastic, "we always did make a good team."

"Have you seen me dance?" Dick asked.

"I've seen you shuffle while holding a girl like she's a live shell," Lew answered. They were most of the way across town now, nearly to the fields the army had seconded for the men's billets. The mess was in a big old barn, and it'd be pretty well empty that time of day. Lew headed there, and Dick fell into step next to him. "Come on; it won't be that bad."

Dick didn't say anything, but followed out of glum obedience. There was a clear space near the door of the mess, and Lew pushed back a few chairs to widen it to about fifteen feet square. Then he held out his hands palm up, trying to remember how this had gone when he hadn't known how to do it on instinct. Dick looked at his hands like he'd never seen them before and had no idea what they were for. He was too far away to grab and pull in, so Lew stepped up.

"Come on," Lew said, taking Dick's hands in his own and standing a couple feet away. "I'll show you a couple dances. Between the two of them, you'll get through most things; Sink won't kill you, and you'll stop stepping on the landed gentry."

"Fantastic," Dick said, but his grip tightened on Lew's. His hands were cold from walking through the brisk November air, and rough from years of training for war, and Lew could think of nothing in the world he'd rather be doing than touching him.

"Okay, watch my feet." He counted out a _One and Two and Three and Four and One and Two and Three and Four and_ while he rocked through the steps of the Lindy hop. "See?" he asked.

Dick's mouth was tight and his eyebrows drawn together, and he was trying hard not to frown.

Lew's fingers were going to start to hurt is Dick didn't loosen his grip, but he smiled and tried again. "Well, let's do it again. See: left, tap, right tap, ro-ck, and step."

They tried it a couple of times. If Lew had gone into this thinking that Dick was merely bad at dancing, he was now coming to the conclusion that he'd never seen anyone dance before ever in his life, and possibly not heard music.

"Let's slow it down," he said. At least he and Dick were still holding hands and were two feet apart. He wasn't looking forward to when he was going to get close enough to risk those jump boots. "Think of it like a cadence," he tried, but that led to _Step TAP, Step TAP, Rock STEP_ , which was not unrelated to something from _The Hairy Ape_. "All right, whatever you do, don't think of it like a cadence," Lew amended. He still hadn't let go of Dick, even though he wanted to bury his face in his hands in despair. "Um..." he struggled for some military metaphor that Dick would be able to sink his teeth into, but wasn't coming up with a whole hell of a lot.

"It's all right, Lew," Dick told him. His voice was soft, and when and when Lew looked up from their feet, his expression was pinched and set. "I know this is a waste of time."

 _Well, fuck that,_ Lew thought. "I know you can get this," he said. "Here. Try this." He pulled Dick's hand up and pressed his fingers to his own neck, so that Dick could feel Lew's pulse. "You know when you're sleeping with your head on my chest and you can hear my heart."

Dick licked his lips and swallowed before he said, "I, uh, yeah. I do."

Lew ignored the feel of Dick's fingers against his throat—how he knew that if they weren't a killer's hands by now they would be soon enough—and said, "It's like a heartbeat: Dum-da, Dum-da, Dum-da, Dum-da." He tapped out the strong and weak beats against Dick's wrist of their joined hands. "Okay?"

"Okay," Dick said, and his hand lingered on Lew's neck for a moment before he joined hands with him again.

"Then let's try it again." He counted this time, and though Dick was still staring at their feet, he managed about seven out of eight beats only half a step behind Lew. "There, see?" Lew said, which made Dick stop and look up at him. He wasn't quite smiling, but the worry lines had faded from his around his eyes. "No, keep going. You need to have this part down pretty well."

"What, there's more?" Dick asked, and Lew could tell by his tone that he was at least joking this time. Maybe he had seen a dance after all.

"Oh, a few things," Lew agreed, trying not to grin because damn if it wasn't great that Dick wasn't standing in his arms like a post. Lew could feel Dick's shoulders relaxing a little as he started to get it, and he didn't have a death grip on Lew's hands any more. "Now stop looking at my feet." He tapped the beat against the side of Dick's hand as they started again and started to hum "The Starlit Hour" as he they started again. Being on beat was going to be a project, but they were started at least. Dick kept glancing down at his feet, and Lew took his chin in hand and lifted his face until their eyes locked. "Eyes front," he said, and Dick grimaced, but did as he was told. Maybe all this army bunk could come in handy after all.

They kept dancing, or shuffling vaguely on time, and Dick kept getting a little better at the steps with each repetition until he was relaxed enough for Lew to put his hand on Dick's shoulder while Dick's fingertip just touched Lew's spine. It felt strange and illicit to be holding each other like this in a public space, and as they swayed together Lew felt a flush spreading through his body. He knew that the whole town would know about Sink's orders by now, and it wasn't like a buddy helping another out was at all improper. Lew had discovered that the U.S. Army, like prep school, was full of allowable skin-on-skin contact. If it weren't for finding a lover, Lew knew he would have vibrated out of his own skin from the frustration of it by now.

Lew was still humming, now onto some Benny Goodman song he'd forgotten the name of, but he just about choked when Dick whispered, "I want to kiss you."

"Uh," Lew said.

Dick's hand on his spine pressed in, and like a good follower Lew moved closer until their chests touched. Dick was still rocking through the steps. Now that he had it, he wasn't going to miss a beat, but suddenly Lew couldn't breathe. "I wish it was just us," Dick continued, "Somewhere private. We could do this close and slow, and I'd kiss you."

"Jesus," Lew said. They're bodies were snug and warm together, and all he could think of was the last time they'd been in bed and how Dick's naked chest had felt against his. He pulled away and went to haul out Joe Domingo's record player. He had a handful of records, and Lew thought some of them should have the right beat. He put the first one on, "Careless" by Glenn Miller, which was at least slow enough for Dick too keep up with, even if it wasn't properly something you'd usually hop to. Lew figured slow was the best way to start in this case, even if it was hardly his usual approach. "Okay, so this is how you turn," he said, which worked into a tangle of legs by half way through the first go around.

"I think I'm supposed to be leading," Dick commented.

"Right, sorry." Lew might have forgotten that part. He wasn't used to this following nonsense, not even with Dick. They got all the way around with the next try, even if Dick missed half the steps, and they spun around the floor for the rest of the song. The B-side was "Vagabond Dreams," and a hair faster, but Dick had the basics down by then. Lew let his eyes close for a moment as the lyrics started, and he pretended that Dick's words had come true, and that they were alone together, and that he could ever have Dick all to himself—Lew's to hold, and Lew's to kiss, just as he liked.

"This is nice," Dick said.

"Yeah." Lew had to swallow to say even that. "Real nice." Then the record spun out, and he had to go restart it before he said something he shouldn't. He just put the same thing on again, and they worked through inside and outside spins together over the next few replays. The foot work definitely fell apart on both, but they all ended up facing the right way at the end, so Lew would take it. "You're picking this up pretty fast," he said.

Dick mouth turned down and his grip tightened on Lew's again. Lew tried to work out why this of all things had made him unhappy, but couldn't put it together.

The record ended again, and Lew turned away to go through the stack. He was going to have to hit up someone else's collection if they wanted to learn the waltz. He found a zippy Harry James tune, and said, "Okay, let's try this a bit faster."

"Fine," Dick answered shortly, and Lew decided to ignore whatever was the matter, for now anyway. They could talk about it later, or he could just let Dick screw his brains out, and call that communication. It seemed to be one of their major ways of expressing themselves, which Lew couldn't say he had a problem with, especially given that sometimes, when they lay together after, Dick would say stupidly sappy things like that he didn't want to be with anyone else, and he thought Lew's hair was nice, and that he liked how Lew's fingers felt inside him. Lew wished he didn't spend as much time as he did hoping for one of those ungraded moments of praise, and that it looked more like he was headed for one today.

Dick was still moving mechanically, but the steps followed well enough, even if he kept missing the seventh beat. He led Lew into a couple of turns, and Lew remembered that he was following and not leading. It was nice getting to hold each other, and they weren't completely off beat even on a fast song. Dick was still scowling.

"You know," Lew said, taking a stab in the dark, "girls don't mind if you're not the best dancer. They like showing a fellow how to do things. So long as you don't squish their feet."

Dick didn't answer, just put Lew into enough spins to make him dizzy. He was still losing his steps on the turns, and Lew thought he should probably work on fixing that, but he was more worried about what was pissing Dick off.

Harry drifted in, apparently not having been given enough to do, and flipped the record when it ran out. The other side was a fast swing tune, and Dick lost the beat a few turns in. He stopped scowling at his feet and trying to catch the song again. Lew tried tapping out the beat on his shoulder, but that threw him off worse, and from the look Dick gave Lew, he was seconds from having his throat cut. Lew cast a desperate look at Harry who was sitting on the table next to the record player, and shrugged up to his ears when Lew caught his eye. Despite the late autumn air, Lew was starting to sweat through his shirt, and he could feel the frustration of not Dick not getting it rising in his throat.

It had been going so well a minute ago, and then Dick had gotten whatever bug up his ass, and now Lew was about to have his hand crushed. "Let's take a break, huh?"

"Sure," Dick snapped, and stepped back, leaving Lew standing in the middle of the cleared space, and the trumpet chirping away to a still room. Dick had his hands jammed in his pockets and looked like he was going to murder something, and Harry was sucking his teeth and for once in his life not saying a damn word.

Lew sighed. "Look," he said, "Why don't you watch, and see what it looks like?" He held out his hand to Harry, who was too good a friend to dodge out. "Put it back on the A-side," he told Dick, and unbuttoned the jacket and loosened his tie. Dick leaned against the table, his arms folded, still frowning.

Harry was a good dancer, even if he kept trying to lead and kept throwing in showy steps while Lew made himself keep to the basics. It felt good to cut loose and move with the music without having to worry too much about his partner. Harry laughed as Lew spun him, and did a showy wave and stomp at the end of the spin like a girl in a movie. Lew grinned and reeled him back in, and then felt a little guilty about how much he was enjoying this after fretting about what Dick was going to do or say for the past forty minutes. He and Harry covered the cleared space pretty well, and for a moment, Lew considered showing off with a few of the lifts he'd picked up while not studying at Yale, but he didn't want to rub it in.

"What's the matter with him?" Harry muttered as they moved through a couple closed sets.

"Doesn't like being the one who's bad at something for once?" Lew guessed, and spun Harry out again.

Harry offered a shrug that seemed to say he didn't think that was all there was to it, but then the song ended and he let go of Lew's hands and faked a curtsy like the smug bastard he was.

"Want to try?" Harry asked Dick, but Dick shook his head. He was starting to look mulish, and Lew knew they were losing ground. It was a Sunday afternoon, and they wouldn't have a lot of free time between now and the next social. Dick's weekdays were packed pretty tight, and as much as Lew dodged paperwork, he wouldn't be able to get out of most of it. They'd have a few stolen hours at most, and Lew wanted to use those for things other than dancing.

"Well," Lew said, "Why don't you get that refugee girl in your billet to practice with you?" She was carrying a torch bright enough to see from New York—as long as your name wasn't Richard Winters who thought of her as a sister—and would no doubt be delighted. Lew trusted that a London girl like her would know her way around a dance floor.

"Maybe," Dick said, in a tone that implied that he probably wouldn't.

"Fine," Lew muttered, but kept it under his breath. The mess staff was starting to come in ahead of dinner, so Lew buttoned his jacket up and put the record player away. It wasn't that he cared that the guys knew, but he didn't think Dick wanted an audience right then. "My place?" he asked Dick as he straightened his uniform.

Dick glanced at Harry, and then at the mess staff, and then finally at Lew. He uncrossed his arms, and nodded shortly. Lew let out a sharp breath and rocked back on his heels. At least Dick wasn't pulling back into himself and away from Lew like he sometimes did. But he didn't want to talk on the walk back to Lew's billet, and he didn't want to talk when they got there.

All he did was double check that Lew's landlord was away, like he usually was, and then he stripped Lew out of his uniform, slammed him into a wall, and fucked him silently and thoroughly. His hands were rough on Lew's hips as they had been holding his as they'd danced, and his thrusts followed the steady _thud thud thud thud_ of a jody. Dick whispered Lew's name when he spent inside him, and Lew let his head fall forward against the wall. He never knew what to do with Dick's volatility, save drink and hope that trying to be there would lead the way out of his dark moods eventually.

"I should go home," Dick said as he dressed. There were no soft words today, and Lew's heart ached at the lack of them, but he couldn't beg; he wasn't that much of a sad sack. Lew had pulled his shorts back on and lit a cigarette as he tried to gather his feelings together and watch Dick leave without asking him to stay. Dick had his hand on the stairway rail down to the rest of the house and his escape. Lew felt like he should say something, but he couldn't for the life of him think of what. Then, like he could read Lew's mind, Dick turned and crossed back to Lew in two long steps. He kissed Lew hard, and as he drew away again, his hand lingered on the side of Lew's face with a tenderness that made Lew's heart ache in a whole new way. "Can I come over tomorrow evening?" he asked, as if Lew's permission were in doubt.

"I'll see if I can clear my schedule," Lew answered, like he always did.

Dick gave him that small, tight nod again, and then vanished down the stairs and back in to the rest of his life.

 

 **Two.**  
Lieutenant Meehan had Easy Company running all over hell and gone in the rain for most of the next day, and Lew could see the exhaustion dragging at Dick when he finally showed up at Lew's billet after dinner. It was late for him. He should have been tucked in with his host family, having tea or listening to the radio, but here he was with Lew again, and as much as Lew wondered, he didn't question it. He didn't dare.

Dick kissed him for a moment, and then asked, "Do you want to try again?"

Lew was thinking about getting fucked into the wall, and nodded a _hell yes_ to that, so he wasn't expecting it when Dick held his hands out to take Lew's.

"Oh," Lew said it as a long released breath, a sign of relief. He hadn't let himself think about the tension between them the day before, but now that he had Dick's hand on his his back and their bodies held close again, he realised how much it had worried him. Funny how they were preparing to fight and likely die in a strange land, and what Lew wanted to know most was that his lover wasn't angry at him.

He didn't expect an apology for Dick's surly behaviour the day before, and he didn't get one. However, either Dick had been practising or somehow the steps had sunk in overnight, because he was able to lead Lew through a count and a few spins without losing his step this time, and without scowling and checking his feet. They didn't have music, but the rhythm of their boots on the threadbare carpet marked the time well enough.

"You're not half bad," Lew said, grinning. The selfish part of himself—which most days composed the majority of Lew's personality—glowed at having torn Dick away from his surrogate family, and rubbed its hands in glee at getting to dance with him again and not with some girl at a social. And if Lew were honest with himself—like he wasn't honest with anyone else, not even Dick—he had to admit that he liked that there was now one thing in the world he could do better than Dick, or one thing that he could do better that Dick wanted to know about. Lew didn't get a hell of a lot of chances to excel, and he planned to make the most of this one while it lasted.

"It easier when it's just you," Dick said, but he didn't explain, and Lew was left to work out what that meant on his own. While he did, they danced. They were both in their shirtsleeves, and Dick's hand was spread wide and warm against his back. They hadn't learned dips, but Lew felt like the whole world could be falling, and Dick would hold him up. He'd taught the beat with his own heart, and he wondered if Dick remembered that as they danced. Lew's heart sped as their steps quickened, still keeping time.

The intimacy of their songless dance only grew as it slowed again, and then fell out of step. Lew wasn't surprised when Dick kissed him. They stopped entirely then, and Dick's hand still on his back, guiding their bodies closer together, and their hands still linked. Dick kissed Lew hungrily, and Lew rose on his toes and tilted his head to meet him. He remembered what Dick had said the day before about dancing making him want to kiss Lew, and supposed that he'd found a way to manage it after all. Behind closed doors, they could do as they liked.

Dick pulled Lew towards the bed, and their hands moved all over each other's bodies as they stripped away clothes until Dick could straddle Lew and ride him hard. He pinned Lew's hands to the bed, and came across Lew's chest without being touched.

"I don't know what I'd do without you," Dick said as they lay together after.

Lew never knew what to say to those upwellings of sentiment, so he said what he always did and told Dick that he loved him.

"Yeah, you too, Nix," Dick said, and Lew's fingers tightened, tugging at the short hairs at the back of Dick's neck. Dick's ear was pressed to Lew's chest, and he had to be thinking of the _Dum-da_ of the step, but he didn't say anything about it. He didn't have to; the two of them there together was more than enough.

Everything that lay unsaid between them filled Lew's heart and made him glad that he'd been drafted, and glad that he'd joined the airborne in a fit of infatuated madness, and glad they were in England preparing to fight the most terrible battles in the history of their country. Lew had realised some time ago that he'd gone quite mad, and that if Dick had any idea what went on in his head, Lew would be out the love of his life, and stuck in the middle of a shooting war to boot.

"You know," he said, "there was whole other dance I was going to teach you."

"Yeah?" Dick asked, he traced a pattern in Lew's chest hair. "What were you thinking?"

"Lindy hop'll only get you so far," Lew told him. "You should at least know how to waltz too."

Dick's hand stilled. "Waltz, huh?"

Lew could feel that there was a bigger question in there somewhere, but damned if he knew what it was. "Yeah," he said, "for slower dances, you know?" He tapped out a stately _Dum-da-da Dum-da-da_ on the back of Dick's neck.

"Sounds romantic," Dick said, and Lew wondered if he was imagining a hint of wistfulness in his voice. If there was, it was the kind of sad he had it within his power to fix, at least in this time and this place.

"So's this," Lew answered, and rolled on top of Dick and kissed him.

 

 **Three.**  
If there was one thing the U.S. Army was good for, it was getting a large group of men geared up and ready to go, and then leaving them standing with their thumbs up their asses—often in the middle of a field, usually in the rain—waiting while some logistical snarl worked itself out somewhere down the line. Lew was just glad the snarl was neither of his making nor his problem to sort out, and for once it wasn't raining that hard. Field exercises had kept him and Dick apart over the last few days, but now they were stuck in the same patch of God's grey England with not a thing to do.

Rather, Lew didn't have anything to do, Meehan and Dick were busy prowling the lines, talking to men who were cold, tired, and stuck with too little to occupy them. The battalion had been out all night, and now it was a pale grey dawn, and nothing whatsoever had been accomplished. Lew thought it was the most realistic exercise they'd ever done, but didn't have to go and walk the perimeter to feel the waves of restlessness rippling off of the troopers, each resentment building on the next as they reflected off the confines of their situation. Strayer had vanished, hopefully to kick whoever was holding the battalion up. Harry was chatting up some of the noncoms, and that big blond lieutenant—Camden or whatever—who'd just shipped in was passing out smokes. Lew pulled one out of his own packet and was patting for his lighter when Dick caught his wrist.

"You were going to teach me to waltz?" Dick asked. His face was blacked up for the night op they hadn't gone on, and he was wearing his full field kit, including mesh on his helmet and his gloves: every inch a soldier, right down to his bones.

"Um..." Lew said, trying to fit one context to the other. "Now?"

"Absolutely right now," Dick said, and jerked his head at the crossroads at the centre of their rough camp. They made about fifteen by fifteen feet of dirt road, and were visible from pretty well from anywhere within the battalion's parameter. For someone who hadn't liked a show three days before, Dick seemed determined to put one on now. "I figure we've got a couple of hours," Dick said as he held out his hands for Lew to take. "I don't have anything else to do. Do you?"

"Not a thing," Lew said and stepped into to follow Dick. "Okay, so you know how the last one was like a heartbeat? This one goes in threes, and I can't think of an analogy, so you're just going to have to bear with me."

"Triangular division?" Dick asked, and Lew briefly considered chasing that metaphor into the ground, then abandoned it.

"Just... bear with me," Lew said. "Okay, stand wider, weight on your other foot, there we go. Now..." He tried to talk Dick through the first wide swinging step with the turn and then the close and step.

They just about fell over, and instead of getting flustered and embarrassed like he had in front of Harry, Dick actually laughed.

Lew cast a quick glance around, just to make sure they were still on a mud road in England surrounded by a battalion of parachute infantry, and indeed they were. In fact, they were pretty much the only show in town, and were drawing a crowd. "Right," Lew said, because he got it now. "Look, Winters, its a slow, easy turn. You're going to pitch me into a hedge."

"Might be you have it coming," Dick said, doing nothing to lower his voice, but they tried it again, and Dick managed to haul Lew around in a semi circle with no one ending up in a ditch or a hedge. When Lew showed Dick the obverse steps, Dick promptly stepped on Lew's foot with a mud-covered jump boot. "Sorry," Dick muttered though he didn't especially sound it.

"I can see why the countess complained," Lew retorted. "Welsh, help me out here, before he kills me."

"Not my dance," Harry said from the front row.

"Of course it's not," Lew muttered. He ended up dancing with the blond lieutenant—whose name was Compton not Camden—and who could have picked Lew up and tossed him into the air like a Harlem jitterbugger. If he'd stepped on Lew's feet, Lew would never have walked again, but he was surprisingly nimble. Lew followed him for a minute or so, while Dick watched their feet like he was studying an infantry manual, then ducked out and bowed. "Okay, try that again."

By the time Dick had the basics of a straight, no-frills waltz step, most of Easy Company was watching, Compton was running a pool, and men were happily distracted.

"You've just got to give them something to get their attention," Dick said, sounding far too pleased with himself.

"That's your excuse then," Lew said. He winked like he didn't believe that Dick was more interested in company morale than in holding Lew close, even though he knew what Dick's priorities were, and always would be. In a way, this was kind of perfect. Lew was a distraction, just like always.

The rising sun started to burn off cloud cover, and pink and shimmering yellow beams of light crept through tears in the overcast. One lit the crossroads like a spot, momentarily blinding Lew as Dick turned him into it. Their feet moved automatically by now, the time tapped out on Dick's shoulder and Lew's back. When the light caught Dick's face, Lew could see through the boot black to how drawn and weary he was. He was holding himself very carefully, Lew realised, and if he hadn't been marking time, his hand might have been shaking with exhaustion. He'd been up all night and the day before too, just like Lew had, and now he was dancing for the men. 

Lew had opened his mouth to say he could stop, that the point had been made, when George Luz started to sing. "I always wanted to waltz in Berlin, waltz in Berlin, waltz in Berlin." It was a novelty song that had been playing on the army's radio lately, and Lew had almost gotten out of his head before that morning. A bunch of first platoon picked it up with, "The way things look, we'll be waltzing right in..." and by the time Strayer drove into the encampment with a murderous-looking Colonel Sink in the back of his jeep, the half the battalion was singing the final chorus.

Sink took in the situation with a glare and strode towards Dick and Lew, now unequivocally the centre of attention. Since they were already locked in each others arms, Lew figured he'd make a show of it, and stepped away from Dick, but let him keep his off hand. Dick picked up on it and bowed slightly over it, his stiffness for once coming to advantage. They stood for a second in tableau before snapping apart and saluting. Sink looked at Dick and Lew, then looked at all the men, and then returned the salute, letting them stand easy. He nodded slightly at Dick and smiled. There was a paternal twinkle in his eyes, and Lew felt his chest puff up even through it wasn't directed at him. Or maybe it was a little. Lew had, after all, been working under orders this whole time.

"Second battalion's moving out," Meehan said, having broken away from Strayer. "Get your men ready, Dick."

"Yes, sir," Dick said, and left Lew standing in the crossroads with Sink and Strayer. It would have been a metaphor, except for a year and a half Lew had never doubted which way he was going to go: wherever Lew got the best view of Dick Winters' ass.

"Quite the show, Lieutenant Nixon," Sink commented as Dick and Meehan left to organise E Company.

"I was just following, sir," Lew answered honestly. He'd seen enough courts martial that he didn't have to wonder what would happen if Sink found out what he and Dick had been doing between dances. Across the field, Dick was getting a cheerful ribbing from Harry and Compton, but he was moving lightly as though they were still waltzing, and he didn't have a day's march ahead of him.

 

 **Four.**  
Lew told himself he was attending the Friday night social to see how Dick's lessons had gone, and not to drink as much as he could and turn greener by the moment. They were all in their Class As and the girls—a mix of locals and army nurses—in the best dresses wartime mending and rationed fabric had to offer. Lew guessed that no few of them were wearing silk stockings of American provenance, but he hesitated to guess what their make up was made out of. Colonel Sink was dancing with the young countess when they got in, and Lew wondered if it was proper for her to be there socialising with American officers, and then wondered if anyone cared right now, considering she could be widowed at any moment. The earl was in North Africa, Lew thought.

Lew went to get a drink, but Dick waded into the fray straight off. Lew supposed he wanted to get his proscribed number of dances in and then go to bed by nine or run ten miles in the dark or whatever it was that he did in his free time when he wasn't with Lew.

A corporal was spinning records, and the town hall had new bunting and all the chairs pushed back to make room for the dancers. Lew leaned back against the bar and watched Dick go right up to Mrs. Sally Harrington as bold as brass and grin sheepishly and hold out his hand. The next song was a mid-paced Andrews sisters tune, and Dick swayed to it a little stiffly at first but then caught it by the time the singing started. It was all no-nonsense straight steps with no hops or kicks on the rock step, but he was keeping time. They held hands and moved with the music. Lew watched and drank and tried not to eat his heart out.

Mrs. Harrington was in her thirties and married to one of the local farmers; she had a broad English face with ruddy cheeks and crimped blonde hair, and Dick was smiling shyly at her and holding her hands and dancing with those long legs of his. If Lew hadn't seen Dick naked, he would have said that Dick never looked more gorgeous than he did when he was in his Class As. The cut of the jacket showed off the strength of his shoulders and the leanness of his waist; the belt cut across just above his hips where Lew liked to put his hands, and then it was long legs only stopped by the floor. Lew turned back to the bar and ignored the dance floor for a song, another breezy tune, probably the B-side of the Andrews Sisters record.

He hadn't considered before that it would be hard to sit by and watch this part. Previously, in his life before Officer Candidate Training, he'd thought of himself as an easy come easy go sort of fellow, even when it came to marriage. He was well aware that Kathy had married a last name, and Lew himself had married a combination of a pretty face and the rewards of getting his mother off his case, and he hadn't especially cared. The fighting and the making up had been as fun with her as it had with any of those Vasser girls or Yale boys, but he expected it would end the same way all the flings had, and it probably still would, if he made it back to New Jersey. He hadn't anticipated this whatever he had with Dick, but he did expect that this time around would actually break his heart. No matter how much Dick needed Lew now—when he was away from his family and there weren't a heck of a lot of interesting girls around—he wouldn't need Lew if they survived and got home. It wasn't that Lew was unaware that Dick was using him as a diary to pour all of his unnexpressible feelings into, as a child's teddy bear to cling to at night, and as a safely silent repository for his sexual frustration, it was just that Lew didn't care. He would take what he could get while he could get it, and not watch the dance behind him.

The man flipping records had switched to Bing Cosby, and Lew recognised the song as "The Anniversary Waltz" and winced. He told himself that turning to look was just out of proprietorial interest in seeing how Dick was doing with the waltz, but in all honesty he knew when he was poking at a bruise just to see how much it still hurt.

Dick was dancing with the countess again, except this time instead of stepping on her feet he was guiding her around the floor in nearly graceful turns. Dick had an expression of fixed concentration on his face, but he was looking in her eyes and not at his feet, and she was smiling up at him, her cheeks flushed and glowing, clearly smitten. Lew gave her a year and a half until she felt like he did every time he got within ten feet of Dick. He realised he was comparing himself to a married noble woman and gave up.

Mrs. Harrington was free for this dance, and Lew lured her out with an exaggerated bow and wink. They turned around the dance floor opposite from Dick and the countess, and Lew made himself look Mrs. Harrington right in the eye and not glance across the room other than to lead her out of the path of other couples.

"You're light on your feet, dear," she said as he spun her out and pulled her back to him. Her skirts lifted, showing off oft-patched, sensible shoes and shapely unstockinged legs.

"Why thank you," Lew said. "Always good to have a partner who appreciates my charms." He wrapped his arms around her when she came back, and wondered if this wouldn't be an easier way to spend his time. There would be no broken hearts here, just two married souls looking for company while their other halves were on the other side of an ocean. He could feel her pulse through her blouse, and thought of teaching Dick to dance in the mess, and Dick's hand strong and gentle against Lew's throat, and dismissed the idea as fancy. It was too late for anything as simple as an affair. Lew spun her away again, and they came back into each other's arms at a more decorous distance. 

The song ended, and Lew found that for all his careful lack of attention, when he stepped away from Mrs. Harrington and turned, he was face to face with Dick. They stood there for a moment, looking wide eyed at each other, and as corporal put on the next record, Lew held out his hands. He didn't know what he was thinking. He wasn't thinking at all. He felt this huge gaping need in his heart, and he followed it blindly forward.

Dick was thinking, thank fuck, and looked away, quickly turning too the grocer's daughter and making some comment that got a dimpled smile out of the girl. Lew shook his head sharply and stumbled off the dance floor to find the bar again. Dick dedicated the night to dancing with every girl in town. Lew spent the same time quietly and ruthlessly drinking himself insensible.

Lew didn't know who dragged his carcass back to his billet at the end of the night, but whoever it was hadn't taken Lew's boots off when they poured him into bed. That meant it either hadn't been Dick, or Dick was more pissed off at Lew than he ever had been before.

Going over the hazy recollections of the night before, Lew could see how either could be true, and he wouldn't blame Dick for being mad if he was. What had Lew been thinking offering that dance? He really had lost his mind. Dick was far better off keeping his distance, but when hadn't that been true?

 

 **Five.**  
Lew spent the rest of the following day nursing his hangover and avoiding Dick. He had to say that looking down from the top floor of the manor at Dick leading his platoon through PT, Lew could definitely see the advantages of teetotalling. Dick appeared as spry and unconcerned as ever, totally focused on his job and getting the best out of his men. If Lew hadn't loved him as much as he did, he would have hated him right then. After that, Dick led platoon-level field exercises that had him out of town all day, and that made Lew's life easier still.

Lew figured that he'd give Dick over the weekend to forgive and forget, and after that they'd hopefully move on to pretending the dance and possibly even the dancing lessons hadn't happened at all. Lew figured that would be the easiest solution, and he was usually dedicated to whatever was easy. Of course, truly easy would be to break things off with Dick, and take up with Mrs. Harrington, or another woman like her: someone accommodating, fun and allowed. Dick was none of those things, and Lew already knew that he'd hang onto any scrap of relationship that Dick wanted to give him, no matter what the personal or professional cost. Thus died the famed Nixon family pragmatism.

Lew was idling in the mansion's foyer again, trying to work out how early was too early to take off on a Saturday afternoon, when Dick drifted in. He was still half covered in mud from the field, and had his helmet under his arm. He had the loose-limbed, satisfied air of a man who'd worked hard and accomplished all his goals—Dick looked like that a lot in these post-Sobel days, and Lew loved it.

"Hey, Nix," Dick said, all studied casualness.

"Yeah?" Lew's throat felt dry. Dick was right up to his elbow, and someday that wasn't going to make Lew's heart go pitterpat, but it looked like not today.

"Last night, at the dance?"

"Yeah?" Christ, was Dick going to chew him out in public for that almost-dance after the waltz?

"I still couldn't seem to nail down the footwork on that outside spin on the Lindy hop. Can you show me again?"

Lew's eyes flicked across the room jammed full of as many desks, junior officers and bits of equipment as Uncle Sam could possibly fit. He doubted if he could swing a cat in here, let alone a parachute infantry platoon leader. "Right now?"

"No, not now, whenever you have time." Dick wasn't quite looking at him, and had rocked forward onto the balls of his feet. Lew knew it was an offer of something else, and hoped it wasn't as obvious to everyone else.

"Oh, sure. Uh, my billet after chow?" Lew asked, and got a half shrug and a grunt in reply, but then Dick smiled and Lew grinned back.

As Dick went upstairs to find Meehan, Lew went through a stomach twisting flip between being sure that no one could possibly suspect Dick Winters of what they were doing, and a dead certainty that everyone had to know, how could they not? Hell with courts martial, Sink would have them summarily shot. Which meant he couldn't know, didn't it? They had to stop doing things that made it so obvious, like talking to each other or looking at each other. But if they suddenly stopped talking, wouldn't that be more suspicious? Lew couldn't work it out, but maybe Dick had.

He lingered over dinner, even though the mess was serving boiled parsnips again and stomach was tied in knots, and when he got back to his billet knocked back two fingers of scotch to settle his nerves. Dick had pretty clearly been offering sex, so Lew didn't know why he was so keyed up. He'd been telling himself that the sex was just sex for over a year now, at the same time as he told Dick that he loved him and meant every word.

Dick showed up ten minutes later in clean ODs. He wasn't smiling like he had been before, and by then Lew couldn't say what he expected, but actually dancing wasn't it. But when Dick held out his hands, Lew stepped into his arms without a word. Dick tapped out waltz time against Lew's spine, and Lew picked it up on the fourth beat. They moved slow enough that there wasn't a real pace to it, just Dick's hands on him and their breath mingling together as Lew looked up at Dick and Dick seemed to study his face. Their boots thudded on the rug, and Lew thought again of heartbeats, though this would be an odd triple pulse.

"I thought you wanted to work on turns?" Lew said, unable to stand the silence building between them.

"Mmm," Dick said. For the first time in days, he looked down at their feet. Lew immediately lost his step, and they came to a halt in a corner of the room. Dick didn't let go, but kept holding Lew close to his chest, their hands entwined together. "I wanted to do this last night," he said. "I saw you dancing with Sally Harrington, and I couldn't stand how much I wanted it to be with me. I almost lost my mind and..."

"Yeah," Lew said. "I know. Me too."

Dick sighed, all the breath seeming to leave his body at once until in the end he seemed lesser. He slumped forward against Lew, and Lew let go of his shoulder and wrapped his arms around Dick's waist, pulling him in tight. "I wish..." Dick said, and his voice was thick.

Lew couldn't stand how near tears they both were, and kissed Dick's neck and said that he understood, which, for once, he actually did. He wished for that too, when he could admit that anything but what they had right now was possible. He wished for dancing in the sunlight, and for it to actually be with each other, not Lew getting him ready for the real thing with some girl, or as a joke for the men. He wished he didn't feel like a joke half the time, having this sideways hidden love that they'd never be able to admit. He wished that they had danced the night before, and that Sink had seen and said it was all right for them to be like that. He wished he had a name for what they were that wasn't something Stanhope Nixon had screamed at him when he was a boy. He wished there wasn't a war on so that they had time to work out what to do, so that he didn't have to hide his terror of what the big jump would bring. He wished the war would never end and that they could stay just like this forever. _If wishes were..._ as his mother said.

They stood together like that, their hearts thumping against each other through the thickness of four layers of olive drab, until Dick sighed again and kissed Lew's hair.

"You know that song, the one that we didn't dance to?" Dick asked.

"I was trying not to listen." It had been something fluffy and fast with a woman singing.

"It was about being so silly in love that you see things." Dick stepped back so that he could look Lew right in the eye, and his chest rose and fell as he took a breath, and Lew felt his heart stop. "That's how I feel when I'm with you."

It was a quote from the song, but Dick wasn't quoting, and for once Dick wasn't complimenting Lew, or telling him he liked how he physically felt. He was showing Lew a little bit of his heart and hoping that Lew would see him, even if no one else in the world could. He'd been doing that all along, and Lew had been too wrapped up in himself to see it.

"Yeah," Lew said, "me too." Then he held out his hands and asked Dick to dance.

**Author's Note:**

> Playlist:  
> (I believe these all are plausibly in period. Please don't tell me if they aren't, as I may cry. I spent way too much time on discog.com for this.)
> 
> The songs Nix is humming in the first section are: "[The Starlit Hour](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rtaZMbKVkFc)" and "[A S-m-o-o-t-h One](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vXFBb1qt_Rc)" 
> 
> The records played in the same scene are "[Careless](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-QtbxtUlYTs)"/"[Vagabond Dreams](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KgjU9q75UbQ)" performed by Glenn Miller et al, and "[One O'Clock Jump](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=27wfC7n8Mv8)"/"[Two O'Clock Jump](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FxEFiM7ziJ4)" performed by Harry James.
> 
> The song Luz sings in the third section is "[I Always Wanted to Waltz in Berlin](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MKSuP3_8Wtg)."
> 
> The songs at the dance in the fourth section are, in order: "[Elmer's Tune](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-hIGBM1_9Nk)" and "[Honey](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D6Q8xBE-HMA)" performed by The Andrews Sisters, "[The Anniversary Waltz](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FwAQ1xT1FTo)" performed by Bing Crosby, and "[Blue Birds in the Moonlight](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z6bQfDQn4QU)" performed by Marion Hutton and Glenn Miller.


End file.
